


Winter's Weather (Peterick)

by infinite_on_high



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt, and joe is a nerd, of course, patrick saves pete's life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_on_high/pseuds/infinite_on_high
Summary: A really dumb story in which patrick saves pete's life. There's not really any fluff, just some crying and kisses.





	Winter's Weather (Peterick)

Patrick stomped through the newly fallen snow that covered the sidewalk. Someone would be out to shovel it in the morning, but of course no one was out shoveling snow at 11 PM. No one was outside at 11 PM, especially during the wintertime in Chicago. It was definitely below zero outside. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the snow-covered sidewalk that was just bright enough so that Patrick could see where he was going.

Patrick hadn't intended to be outside in the freezing cold at nearly midnight, but things never really went as planned in Patrick’s life, so he didn't think much of it. He checked his phone again to make sure he’d read the message correctly. Joe had texted him at 10 PM to meet him at his apartment. Apparently, Patrick had left something there that Joe had deemed important enough to justify walking around Chicago at practically midnight.

Patrick finally arrived at the apartment building. He felt a blast of warm air wash over him as he stepped into the lobby. After walking around in the cold for twenty minutes, the lobby felt like a microwave. Patrick figured he should have called a cab, but he wasn't sure if any cabs even operated this late at night, and even if they did he wouldn't have had the money to pay for one. He stepped into the elevator and rode all the way up to Joe’s floor. He knocked on the door of Joe’s apartment.

Joe opened the door immediately. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, and he looked tired.

“For fuck’s sake, Joe, couldn't you have waited until morning? I just walked twenty minutes in sub-zero weather, and I'm tired as hell. I'm sure you're not happy to be awake either. What gives, man?” Patrick complained.

“You left this here,” Joe mumbled. He handed Patrick a wallet along with a notebook that Patrick had never seen before.

“Thanks,” Patrick said. “I don't think this notebook is mine, though.”

“Oh,” Joe sighed. “You're right. It's not. Oops.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll just take my wallet and go home,” Patrick told Joe.

“You can crash here if you want,” Joe offered.

“No thanks,” Patrick replied, staring into Joe’s apartment. There was an empty pizza box on the floor, barely enough space for one person, and it smelled like sweat. Patrick was willing to walk home in the freezing weather just so he could sleep in his own apartment.

He took the elevator back down to the lobby, and braced himself for the inevitable chill that would hit him when he left the building. As he stepped out into the night air, he sighed to himself. Sure, the wallet was important, but was it worth the walk through the snow?

As Patrick walked past a row of benches, still thinking it over, he got the overwhelming feeling that he was being watched.

Patrick looked around. Why would someone be watching him? Why would anyone else be outside this late at night? He scanned the benches, looking for an answer, and noticed a shadowy figure sitting on one of them.

Patrick walked toward the figure cautiously. It was definitely a person, and not some kind of dog. That wasn't too surprising, since stray dogs didn't appear all too often in Chicago. Patrick walked closer to the person. He looked at them, trying to make sense of why they were just sitting on a bench in the middle of the night.

“Umm, hello?” Patrick asked cautiously, not wanting to startle the person or come off as rude.

“Hey,” the man replied. Judging by his voice, he was a man, but Patrick had never seen a guy like him around before. The man was wearing a thick black coat, and he had the hood pulled over his eyes. He was also wearing black skinny jeans, an odd choice for the middle of winter. The man also had on big black boots with fur and long laces, like the kind of boots that models wear in winter clothing ads.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick asked. “It's really late, and it's also really cold out here. Shouldn't you be home?”

“I guess so,” the man replied, not looking at Patrick. “I'm not sure why I'm out here. I guess I'm just crazy or something.”

“So you willingly decided to sit outside on a bench in the freezing cold weather for no reason?” Patrick asked again. He sat down on the bench next to the other man.

“I guess so. I suppose I just need to think, you know?”

“So you went out here?”

“Like I said. Maybe I'm just crazy.”

“Who even are you?”

“My name is Pete. But I don't really know who I am anymore. Sorry, I guess.”

“Oh,” Patrick nodded. He didn't exactly understand what Pete was talking about, but he wasn't going to ask again. “I'm Patrick, by the way.”

“Patrick,” Pete said to himself, as if he was thinking about what the name meant. “I guess I’ll see you around then, Patrick.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. “I'm going to go home now. You should too.”

“Okay,” Pete responded. He began walking in the same direction as Patrick. When Patrick arrived at his apartment building, Pete followed him inside.

“Do we live in the same apartment building?” Patrick asked, slightly weirded out by this.

“I guess so,” Pete answered.

“Huh,” Patrick thought out loud. “Interesting. I wonder why I've never seen you before.”

“I don't know,” Pete said.

They rode up the elevator in silence. When Patrick got out on his floor, Pete stayed on, presumably to go to a higher floor.

As Patrick laid in bed that night, he thought about Pete. The random guy who had been sitting outside in the cold on a bench in the middle of the night. Pete’s words echoed over and over again in Patrick’s head, and Patrick wondered what they meant.

‘I don’t really know who I am anymore.’

The next day, Patrick and Joe were at a coffee shop. Patrick decided to tell Joe about Pete.

“I met the weirdest guy last night,” Patrick began.

“What was he doing?”

“He was just sitting on a bench near my apartment building. He wasn't with anyone, or doing anything. Just sitting there.”

“Was he homeless?”

“No. He lives in my apartment building.”

“Huh,” Joe replied. “Did you ask him who he was?”

“He told me his name was Pete, but-”

“Pete who?”

“He didn't tell me his last name.”

“Andy knows a guy named Pete. Maybe he’s your guy.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“Pete? Yeah, I met him once. He was-he was kind of crazy, I guess.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He was like, a goth or something. Wore all black, had hair that went in his face, you know, generic goth stuff. He was also really short. But not as short as you.”

“I'm not that short, am I?” Patrick laughed. “But that does sound like the guy I met.”

“I'm gonna text Andy about it. Maybe he can tell us.”

“Joe, this isn't a fucking criminal case. You're gonna make me sound like some kind of stalker.”

“Don't swear, Patrick! There could be small children in this coffee shop!” Joe whispered.

“Like you haven't sweared in a coffee shop before,” Patrick responded.

“Fair point,” Joe nodded. “Oh hey, Andy texted me back!”

“What'd he say?”

Joe showed Patrick the message.

Yeah, Pete was out late last night. I think he was depressed cuz his girlfriend dumped him. He’s probably fine.

“Definitely sounds like our guy,” Patrick said.

“Yup,” Joe agreed. “Anyway, Andy and I are gonna watch Star Wars at my place tonight. Wanna join?”

“Didn't you watch Star Wars with Andy, like, two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but you can never watch Star Wars too many times. Also, since Andy doesn't have it on DVD he has to come over to my place to watch it.”

“So you and Andy are going to your apartment tonight to watch Star Wars for the twentieth time?”

“Exactly.”

“Will there be pizza?”

“When is there ever not pizza?”

“Alright, I'm in.”

Patrick walked to Joe’s apartment that evening. By the time he got there, more snow had started to fall. He wasn't looking forward to walking home in the snow, but he wasn't going bring his wallet to Joe’s and risk leaving it there again.

When Patrick arrived, Andy was already there. Joe had the original Star Wars trilogy on DVD, and the four of them spent the next five or six hours watching them. By the time the final movie was over, it was past midnight. Andy went back to his place, which left Patrick to walk home alone.

Quite a bit of snow had fallen since Patrick had arrived at Joe’s apartment. Patrick felt water seeping into his shoes as he walked down the sidewalk. No one had gotten around to shoveling the sidewalk, probably because not many people would be out walking around until morning.

As Patrick was about to turn the a corner next to his apartment building, he heard a window smash a few floors up. Patrick looked to where the sound had come from, and saw a man dressed entirely in black climbing onto a windowsill on the fifth floor.

“Hey!” Patrick called up to him. “What are you doing?”

“Patrick?”

Patrick recognized the voice.

“Pete?” he yelled. “What the fuck?”

“Get out of the way!” Pete screamed. His voice was shaky, like he had been crying recently.

“Out of the way of what?”

“Just move!” Don't stand right below me!”

“Why? Pete, what are you doing?”

“I’m-I’m doing what I have to do. Just-you might not wanna watch, okay?”

“Are you going to jump?”

“I have to. Don't try to talk me out of it. You don't have to watch. You don't even have to stay here. You can walk away, pretend this never happened, and the shovel people will find my dead body on the sidewalk and take care of it.”

“No! I'm not moving! If you jump, you could land on me. Can you live with that?”

“I won't have to. In two minutes I’ll be dead.”

“No you won't! You’re gonna get off the motherfucking windowsill and back into your apartment, and I'm gonna-”

“I said don't try to talk me out of it!” Pete shouted, his voice obviously breaking. He was going to start crying, if he wasn't already.

“But-”

“Shut your fucking mouth! I'm gonna jump in ten seconds, and if you haven't moved by then you’re gonna be seeing my blood all over the sidewalk. I'm gonna count down, and if you haven't gotten the fuck out of here, then- well, you know.”

“Pete, why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to, okay? You don't fucking understand. You don't know what I've been through, you don't even know me. So if you're not into looking at strangers’ brains strewn on the sidewalk, I'd suggest you get out of here! Go to your own apartment, have a mug of tea and watch an episode of Jeopardy or something. Do whatever you want, actually. I'd just recommend not staying here.”

“You can't-”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want! I'm an adult! Now I'm gonna count down from ten, and if you're not out of here by the time I get to zero, you’re probably going to be looking at a lot of blood tonight. And if you’re into that kind of thing, then stick around, I guess. Otherwise you might want to haul ass.”

“Pete-”

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Pete began counting down. Patrick wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't call anyone in time to save Pete, nor could he stop Pete from jumping on his own. So Patrick was forced to stand there, watching in horror, as Pete finally reached zero.

The man jumped off the windowsill towards the sidewalk below, his eyes shut tight. Pete braced himself for the landing, promising himself that in a few minutes, he would never feel pain again.

Pete hit the sidewalk, plunging into the freshly fallen snow. It cushioned his fall, and he did not die instantly as he had hoped would happen. Every part of his body stung from the pain of the fall. This was the exact opposite of what he had wanted.

Patrick ran over to Pete. He gently shook the dark-haired man.

“Are you alive?” he said desperately, placing his hand to Pete’s chest. Pete let out a groan, signaling to Patrick that he was, in fact, alive. Blood poured out of Pete’s nose and a few cuts on his face, he felt as if someone was pummeling his chest with a hammer, and his arms and legs felt like they were being crushed under some kind of weight. Pete may have been alive, but he wished more than ever that he wasn't.

“Thank God,” Patrick sighed. “I'm not going to let you die on the sidewalk. You're gonna be alright, I promise.”

Patrick pulled out his phone and called 911. An ambulance arrived soon after to get Pete. Patrick went up to his apartment knowing that Pete was okay. It was kind of strange, Patrick thought. He had been so determined to save this guy who he’d only met yesterday. Patrick was happy, though, knowing he had saved Pete’s life.

Patrick awoke the next morning to a call from Joe. He picked up reluctantly.

“Joseph Trohman, do you have any idea what time it is?” he grumbled.

“Patrick, it’s nine-thirty AM. It's really not that unusual for me to be awake right now.”

“Oh yeah. Oops.”

“Anyway, your weird sleep schedule aside-”

“We are not making this into a joke.”

“Whatever. As I was saying, dude! You're a fucking hero!”

“What?”

“You don't remember?”

“What did I do?”

“You saved Pete’s motherfucking life is what you did!”

“I think the snow saved his life, actually. I just-”

“Patrick, if you hadn't called anyone, he would have died on the sidewalk. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I also just kind of got lucky. If the snow hadn't been there to break his fall, then he'd still be dead whether I was there or not.”

“But the snow was there! And you were there too! And you gave enough of a fuck about this random weirdo who you literally met two days ago to call someone and save his life! You’re awesome, Patrick.”

“Thanks?”

Patrick thought about what Joe had told him. He didn't think he was a much of a hero. Anyone would have called 911 if they saw some guy jump out of a window, right?

Right?

A few weeks later, Patrick and Joe were at the same cafe where they had first learned who Pete was. They were having some irrelevant discussion, probably about music, when Andy and Pete walked in.

“Hey! Joe! Patrick!” Andy called. A woman gave him a weird look for yelling in a coffee shop, but he ignored her.

“Hey!” Joe replied.

“Pete?” Patrick said, recognizing the man whose life he had saved a few weeks earlier.

Pete walked over to the table where Patrick and Joe sat while Andy ordered coffees. Patrick stared into Pete’s dark eyes as he sat down at the table. There was something about them, Patrick just couldn't place it.

“Hi, Patrick,” Pete said nervously.

“Hi,” Patrick replied.

“I, um-” Pete paused, not sure of what he really wanted to say. “I wanted to thank you. You know, for saving my life and all.”

“It was nothing,” Patrick said. “Well, not nothing, of course, I mean, it was your life, but I didn't really do a lot, you know?”

“Are you kidding? You saved my life. I know this sounds cheesy, but I can't thank you enough.”

“You’re welcome, then,” Patrick replied awkwardly.

Andy arrived with coffee a few minutes later, breaking the awkward silence between Pete and Patrick.

“Pete,” Joe began, raising an eyebrow and staring at the sugary, whipped-cream topped drink Pete had ordered. “No offense, but is that even a coffee?”

“Honestly?” Pete replied. “I'm not entirely sure what it is.”

“He told me to order him the most sugary thing this place sold,” Andy explained.

“I guess I've decided to make the most of life from now on,” Pete said with a smile.

“By eating as much sugar as possible?” Patrick asked.

“Ideally all the sugar will kill me before I do,” Pete told him. “Either way, I'm goin’ down swingin’”

“Right,” Patrick said, nodding. He aimed a concerned look at Pete.

“Don't get the wrong idea, though,” Pete said. “I'm okay now. Sugar would be a very ineffective way to kill yourself anyway.”

“You say that as if you've tried it.”

“I haven't. And I don't intend to.”

“I thought you said that was what you were doing. Letting the sugar kill you before you decide to kill yourself.”

“You know what I think?” Pete asked rhetorically. “I think we should change the subject.”

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick agreed.

“Seriously though, you can't mock my insane sugar coffee thing when you're literally just having plain coffee,” Pete laughed.

“I think plain coffee is a perfectly acceptable thing to have,” Patrick argued.

“You guys are like, complete opposites,” Joe observed.

“I mean, maybe,” Patrick said.

“No seriously, it's so crazy that you guys would just meet by chance. Pete's like, a goth, and Patrick’s this happy, artsy dude. You guys ordered literally the exact opposite coffees somehow, and-”

“Well, we've got one thing in common,” Patrick said, stopping Joe mid-sentence.

Everyone waited for him to finish.

“I mean, we’re both depressed. Just like, not to the same degree.”

The other three stood stunned for a few seconds. 

“You-” Joe said.

“Forget I said that,” Patrick mumbled. His face turned bright red.

“Patrick, you-” Joe was still struggling to find the words. “Patrick, are you okay?”

“I'm fine!” Patrick shouted. “Just forget I said that, okay? I'm fine!”

Almost everyone in the coffee shop was staring at him. He couldn't help feeling a bit scared.

“I gotta go,” Patrick said shakily. He grabbed his coffee and rushed out the door.

“What just happened?” Pete asked Joe. “Is he usually like this?”

“No,” Joe replied. “I have no idea.”

“Should I be scared?”

“I mean, probably not. Besides, even if you did try to follow him, it'd be no use. That little guy is faster than he looks.”

“Huh.”

Pete stood up.

“You're going to follow him, aren't you?” Andy asked, glaring at Pete.

“You know me,” Pete shrugged. He left the coffee shop, sugar-filled drink in hand.

Patrick was walking quickly down the sidewalk in an attempt to get back to his apartment before he froze to death. He kept mumbling to himself about how stupid he was. Why would he have said that? Now everyone was worried about him, and-

“Patrick!”

Patrick heard his name being called. He stopped in front of the row of benches where he had first met Pete. He turned around and noticed that, much to his dismay, Pete had followed him out of the coffee shop.

“I'm sorry,” Patrick said to him. “I'm okay, just- please leave me alone.”

“But-”

“I'm sorry about what I said in the coffee shop,” Patrick explained. “It was stupid and insensitive, and now everyone’s worried about me, except I'm okay, really, I am, it's you they should be worried about, you're the one who's not okay, I know that, I should never have said-”

“It's okay,” Pete told him. He and Patrick both sat down on one of the benches.

“What?”

“Seriously, don't worry about it. You're allowed to be sad, you know. I don't want to be sad all by myself anyway.”

“But it's not like that. I'm just a little sad about really stupid things, it’s okay, really. But you-you-”

“Yeah,” Pete said. He stared at his shoes.

“Why?”

“I don't wanna talk about it, okay? I don't ever want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their coffees and watching as snow started to fall.

“You know, I thought sugar and coffee would make me happier. That's not what happened,” Pete complained. “Now I'm just sad but also really caffeinated and slightly ill.”

“I get that,” Patrick replied.

“Thanks again for saving me, by the way,” Pete said. “I would, like, kiss you, except that would be really weird.”

“Wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

And so Pete kissed him.

Patrick was speechless. He stared at Pete with a stunned look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Pete said. “I told you it would be really weird.”

“No, don't apologize,” Patrick told him. “That was-well-that was alright.”

Pete smiled.


End file.
